Inexplicably
by Miss Pookamonga
Summary: A collection of random SamMcKay oneshots and drabbles set in S4. Terrible summary, but that's what it is...please READ AND REVIEW! Completed!
1. Coffee Run

_Dear Readers,_

_Due to the sad lack of Sam/McKay-related fics in the fandom I had been planning to write more in addition to my first one, "Assumptions". So, I got this idea from reading some other fics on LiveJournal and assorted Stargate fan-websites. It will be a compilation of Sam/McKay oneshots and drabbles taking place somewhere within the time frame of season 4. Anyhoo...I have nothing else to say, except that I hope you enjoy, and PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!!!!!! (Emphasis on REVIEW!)_

_Best regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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_**I: Coffee Run**_

"Where's my coffee?!"

He scans the room wildly, whipping his head back and forth, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he's looking for. But his eyes do not detect its presence, so his frenzied behavior grows only worse.

"Miko! Have you seen my coffee thermos?!" he nearly screeches, in a voice laced with both panic and fury.

Miko jumps, startled that he has actually called her by name. She looks up, her eyes wide with fear and apprehension. Although she is quite worshipful of him, she knows well that a Dr. McKay without his coffee is as dangerous as a stack of dynamite sitting next to a burning candle. One wrong move would be like knocking over the flame and igniting the deadly pile of explosives.

"I...I do not know, Dr. McKay...I have n-not seen it...maybe you left it—"

"_Sheppard!_" he interrupts loudly, jabbing his finger at the air. "I bet he _stole_ it! The little—I'm gonna _get _him..."

In a flash, he has sprinted out of the lab, and now speeds down the hallway. His face is flushed with rage—his lips are tightly pursed, his nostrils are flared, his cheeks are growing pink, and his eyes are gleaming with the red-hot fire of pent-up fury. Frankly, he looks like a bull charging toward its target. He is running so fast that he doesn't even notice where he is going. Passerby in the hallway stop to stare at the spectacle, but he pays no heed. He is on a mission, and nothing can stop him, nothing can stand in his way—

—except maybe Sam Carter.

He slams into her before he even realizes she is there, and the force of his impact is so great that it sends both of them toppling to the floor. Both are stunned for a second, then, coming to their senses, they look up wearily. Sam is sprawled out on the floor, but she cannot bring herself to stand because, as she peers upward, she realizes that something is weighing her down.

Some_one_.

_Rodney._

Rodney McKay is on top of her.

At the same precise moment, both of them realize their position, and for a split second, they stare at each other in utter horror. Rodney opens his mouth to say something, but hastily shuts it again and attempts to extricate himself from the woman beneath him. However, as he tries to stand up, his foot slips and he falls back toward her and knocks her down again as she is sitting up.

"_McKay!_" she yells in annoyance.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he cries, pushing himself upward and rolling to the side. Finally, he is able to stand up steadily, and he offers a hand to Sam, which she gratefully takes.

"I'm really, really sorry! I didn't see you—don't think I did that on purpose, I'm not _that _perverted—"

"McKay—" Sam holds up her hand "—it's fine." She pauses. "Now, if there had been other people looking...well, that's another story. And don't say 'sorry' again, because I _know_ that's what you're about to do."

"Oh yeah." He waves his hands in the air. "Sorry 'bout that—" he spies her staring coldly at him "—I mean..._crap_! Sorry—ah—about...saying 'sorry'...I—oh, never mind." He lets his hands flop to his sides in frustration and looks at her with puppy-dog eyes without even realizing it.

A grin creeps across Sam's face and she chuckles, dipping her chin down a bit. He can be so cute sometimes, even though he acts like a complete jerk.

"Whatever, McKay. What were you doing, anyway?"

Rodney motions to speak, but he half-closes his mouth, suddenly unable to remember why he was running down the hall in the first place.

"I...oh!" He points distractedly at Sam as he squints at the ceiling in concentration. "I was looking for Sheppard, because he stole my coffee—"

"Keller has your coffee," Sam interrupts, trying desperately not to laugh.

"Huh—_what_? Why does she have...my..." he gazes at Sam, brows furrowed in confusion.

"She had it with her—said you left it in the mess hall after breakfast. She was going to give it to you, but she got wrapped up in something—"

"Does the woman know important my coffee is?!" Rodney nearly yells, his coffee withdrawal-induced panic steadily creeping back into his senses.

Sam crosses her arms and just rolls her eyes. "You take that up with her. I'm not going to risk getting involved."

And with that, Rodney spins on his heel and dashes off to the infirmary, leaving a bemused Sam to shake her head in his wake.


	2. Silence is More than Golden

_Dear Readers,_

_Thanks to those that read and my lone reviewer :P :P :P Muchas Gracias. Here is the second installment...it's a bit fluffy/mushy, so if that makes you gag, well, I apologize, but I HAD to do it!! ;-D_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan--did I mention I have an obsession with David Hewlett?),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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_**II: Silence is More than Golden**_

"What would you say if I kissed you?"

She turns her head away from the blazing sunset to look at him, her blue eyes as placid as the sky on a sunny summer's day.

"Right now?" she asks, raising her eyebrows a little.

He twiddles his fingers nervously. "Yeah, yeah," he says shortly, his eyes darting back and forth, avoiding her gaze. "Right now."

She turns her head back towards the sunset, its bright colors brilliantly splashed across the sky. A small smile tugs at her lips.

"I don't know," she half-whispers without looking back at him, as if she is in a trance. "I don't know if I'd be able to say anything at all."

He nods quietly, then turns to the sunset as well. He grips the railing so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He considers her answer, weighing his options tirelessly in his mind. He chances a quick glance at her. She gazes peacefully out across the ocean, her eyes glinting in the light and the loose strands of hair floating in the soft breeze, brushing against her smooth skin. Suddenly, something surges up within him, and he realizes that there are no options.

Tentatively, he lifts his hand up and softly brushes a few blonde strands out of her face and tucks them behind her ear. She turns her head toward him as he slides his hand across her cheek and cups it, rubbing his thumb against the skin near her nose. Her eyes twinkle at him, and he smiles a little, leaning his face towards hers. Their noses touch, and her eyes flutter closed. His free arm skates around her waist as her hands slide up his shoulders and around his neck. There is a split second during which they both stand there, unmoving—a moment's breath before Rodney slowly tilts his chin forward, finally touching his lips to Sam's in a soft, sweet kiss.

He feels her fingers press into his neck as he kisses her. She is eager, but tense; he can feel her fear and hesitation. He brings his hand down from her cheek and rubs it across her back comfortingly as his other arm draws her closer to him. She slowly relaxes under his touch, gradually leaning into him as her hands travel across his face and her fingers run through his hair. The blissful sensation of their embrace feels like lurching, tingling, swooping—it's indescribable. Yet it continues to wash over them both, like a refreshing wave of cool water on a sweltering hot day, drowning them in its powerful essence.

It is Rodney who finally, but reluctantly, breaks the kiss, unwillingly pulling his lips away from hers. Sam's eyes flutter open again to gaze at his lovingly. Her mouth is crooked in a slight smile, as is his. They smile tenderly at each other for a minute, then, he moves a hand up her back and neck and entwines his fingers in her hair. Her smile merely grows wider, and she suddenly slides her hands downward from his neck and leans her head against his chest. He is caught off-guard, but only for a second, after which his smile widens too. He rests his chin against her head as she turns it to look out upon the glorious sunset once more.

And suddenly, the silence speaks more words to describe that moment than either one of them ever could.


	3. Unintentional

_Dear Readers,_

_Well, here's the next installment. It was kind of inspired by a Sam/McKay story I read on LiveJournal about a date gone wrong... Kudos to that author! Well, this isn't about a date gone wrong, but I still owe that person kudos. Anyhoo, I would REALLY REALLY appreciate it if more people reviewed...I'm kind of short, here!_

_Best regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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**_III. Unintentional..._**

"We've been set up."

"You think I haven't realized that already?"

The two stare down at the plates of food on the table, an awkward silence penetrating the space between them. Neither one of them wants to speak, or look at the other...yet, at the same time, each wants to do the exact opposite. The uneasiness of the situation clenches around them, making them more confused and more uncertain by the moment.

Sam absent-mindedly picks up her fork and toys with her mashed potatoes, twirling the white, fluffy mass in circles as the brown gravy trickles over bumpy ridges and little troughs left by the fork. Rodney, likewise, jabs at his turkey, staring dazedly at it. Suddenly, Sam heaves a heavy sigh, causing Rodney's head to snap upward and look at her quizzically.

"What?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray any actual genuine concern.

Sam lifts her eyes to meet Rodney's face. A strange expression crosses over her own features, but only for a split second—as soon as it has come, it has dissolved. "Oh, nothing..." She tries to answer a bit more lightheartedly, but gives up trying to cover herself with a mask and trails off in defeat.

There is another short awkward silence before they both blurt out in unison, "I'm going to _kill_ Sheppard!"

They stop suddenly and gape at each other in surprise for a very long second before bursting into laughter. Immediately, some of the tension slips away, loosening its grip on their emotions.

"Idiot," chuckles Sam, shaking her head and grinning widely as she scoops up some mashed potatoes with her fork.

"Who, me?" replies Rodney incredulously through his laughter.

"Well, not in this particular circumstance, no. I meant the infamous John Sheppard," answers Sam, a playful tone in her voice as she raises her eyebrows suggestively and sticks her fork into her mouth.

"Don't forget that's _Lieutenant Colonel_ John Sheppard," Rodney remarks sarcastically, a smirk on his face as he stabs a piece of turkey with his own fork.

Sam can't help but widen her smile. "Right. I almost forgot."

Rodney laughs again. "I can't believe you haven't stormed out of here yet," he says amusedly, after a moment's pause and before biting into his piece of turkey. He eyes her cautiously, awaiting her reaction.

Sam furrows her eyebrows at him. "Well, I have to eat, don't I? Besides, I couldn't just leave you here."

Something about the way she says the last sentence, some lilt in her voice that is just a tiny bit more tender than usual, makes Rodney's stomach somersault. He sniggers in response, but he wonders if she really meant to sound...well, _different _when she said it.

"_Obviously_. I mean, it's kind of empty in here, y'know," he answers nonchalantly, waving his fork at the vacant (and now dimly lit) mess hall and proceeding to push the previous thought to the back of his mind.

"So," continues Sam casually after giggling at his joke, "how do you propose we get back at him?"

"Great minds _do_ think alike! I was about to say the same thing. Anyway...I dunno. Maybe we could steal his golf clubs."

Sam's mouth drops open. "Are you crazy?!" she laughs. "He'll murder us!"

Rodney grins widely, pointing his fork at Sam. "Ah, but considering he's made_ us_ feel like murdering _him_, it's perfect payback."

Sam sighs and rolls her eyes. "Okay...so what happens when he decides to pay us back for paying him back for setting us up?"

Rodney's smug expression falters, and Sam tries to suppress another giggle. "I...uh...well...we just...tell all the kitchen people to hide all the lemons?"

Sam drops her fork and leans her forehead against her hand as she erupts into another fit of laughter.

"Hey, it's not funny, you know! He really could try to poison my coffee!"

That only makes Sam laugh harder. Her face starts flushing a soft shade of pink.

"Will you quit laughing?!" cries Rodney, intending to sound indignant, but instead he ends up coughing out a chuckle, and before he knows what has happened, he is guffawing along with her again.

How long they share that hilarity, they do not know, but the moment finally passes and both of them calm down...but only to be greeted suddenly by each other's gaze.

She is at first startled by those small grey spheres gleaming intently at her own blue ones, but she suddenly realizes how gentle they look, at how softly they are regarding her. She senses his moment of weakness, and she smiles in spite of herself, letting her own walls down to respond with the same tenderness. She detects his face relaxing as he gazes at the blue pools sparkling back at him in what could possibly be affection. Finally, a tiny grin tugs at his lips. It is then that she realizes how irresistibly cute he looks when he grins like that, as opposed to when he merely smirks. This is more sincere, and she likes it.

"Y'know, maybe we should thank him," Sam finally says softly, leaning her cheek on her hand. "I'm actually enjoying this."

"Yeah, me too," answers Rodney quietly. He can't keep his eyes off her; she is so beautiful, especially with those gorgeous sapphire eyes.

There is another silence, but this time, it is no longer awkward. It is a sweet moment in which they both gaze at each other affectionately, their eyes conveying more than they would ever let their words do. Their eyes, which are slowly growing larger. Growing larger because they are moving forward, closer to each other. And still, even closer. And then...

She is kissing him. She doesn't know how it happened—one moment they were staring at each other, the next...this. She is surprised at how fast her heart is beating, how overwhelming the rush of emotion is. It is nothing passionate, only a tender brush of lips, yet he is such a good kisser. He tastes like turkey, gravy, cranberries, stuffing, and green beans, but she doesn't care—she knows she does too. She lays her hand gently on his neck, and she feels his pulse race faster at her touch. The blissful moment seems to last forever, but it is only a mere minute before they reluctantly pull away.

They lean back into their chairs and stare at each other again until Rodney's mouth suddenly begins curling into a huge smile.

"What?" asks Sam, her mouth crooked mischievously.

"On second thought, maybe we should just kill Sheppard anyway."

"Why?" she answers, eyeing him suspiciously.

Rodney's grin just broadens. "Because he actually succeeded."

Sam chuckles. "And neither of us is willing to have him lord it over us," she finishes.

"Exactly!" Rodney exclaims, jabbing his forefinger toward Sam—only to knock over his glass of juice.

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**A/N: Congrats to David Hewlett and Jane Loughman on the bundle of joy coming their way!**


	4. Irony is a Terrible Thing

_Dear Readers,_

_After watching the first few eps of Season 4, a million different plotbunnies rushed into my head, and well, this is part of the result! I was in a lull for a while until S4 started, and it's obviously been good for me, because I have so many things I can write now! Anyhoo, this time, I ended up doing something angsty instead of sweet and/or funny. It just popped out of my head and ran away from me, and the next thing I knew, I had written this oneshot. :Sigh: Strange how you sometimes can't control these things..._

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

_PS: As always, reviews are very appreciated :D _

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_**IV. Irony Is A Terrible Thing**_

"Where's Rodney?" she asks, her voice laced with a faint trace of worry. The rest of her anxiety remains well-concealed behind the mask she is so used to wearing when dealing with "official" business.

John lifts his head, his face a picture of weariness. She knows immediately that the answer can't be good.

"We had to...he..." He takes a deep, but shaky breath. "We don't know. Last we saw him...we were in a shootout with the Wraith..."

"There was so much confusion, it was hard to tell where anyone was—we lost him amid the fray," Teyla finishes calmly, but gravely, as John trails off.

"He put up a good fight," Ronon throws in, perhaps not wanting to submit to an awkwardly painful silence.

Sam nods in response, but her mind is in a trance. "You'd better get to the infirmary quickly," she answers almost robotically. "I'll...be there to check on you later."

Perhaps they speak more consoling words to her as they hobble away with the dispatch medical team hot on their heels, but she doesn't hear them. She doesn't hear anything around her. Only the reverberating echo of Rodney's last conversation with her resonates through her brain, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't make it echo any less.

_"Do I _have_ to go?" Rodney whines, leaning his hands nervously against her desk._

_"Rodney, you almost went into anaphylactic shock. I'm not going to risk that happening again before you go on this mission," Sam answers sternly, sending him a firm stare._

_He is slightly distracted by her eyes for a moment, but then reverts back to argumentative mode, scrunching up his nose as he offers another whiny response. "It wasn't _anaphylactic shock_, it was...a coughing fit."_

_"A coughing fit that could've killed you."_

_"It wasn't that bad!"_

_"_Yes, _it was."_

_"Was not!" His voice is starting to resemble that of an upset three-year-old. _

_"Rodney, don't waste our time trying to argue with me. You're going to Dr. Keller _now_ and getting that shot," she finishes, the finality in her tone pounding out all hope of possible rebuttal._

_Rodney crosses his arms, not wanting to admit defeat, but he knows he's lost. "It was just some dust in the jumper, that's all," he mutters quietly as he pouts pathetically like a child stuck in time out. _

_Sam sighs, trying to ignore how deliberately cute his expression is, but her voice and face soften all the same. "We don't know for sure _what _it was, and I want to be absolutely certain that you're going to be safe before you even _get _to that planet, let alone _when_ you get there." _

_The tenderness with which she speaks to him calms him down somewhat, and he uncrosses his arms. "Okay, _fine_," he finally sighs. "But I'll have you know, I'm only doing this because you care so much, and I find that _very_ attractive." He ineffectively attempts to hide a smirk. _

_"Go, Rodney," Sam says, trying to give him a cold look, but instead submitting to an amused grin. _

_"I'm going, I'm going! Geez, woman!" he gripes, holding up his hands as he backs out of her office, the characteristic smirk still plastered on his face. _

She tries to cling to the memory of his face as he walks away, his lips crooked in that smug grin he always wears, but it slips away from her grasp like rainwater seeping out of cupped hands. She never thought that that smirk, or that childish whine, or those pathetic attempts to impress her, or even those annoying passes he would make would ever be the first things she would instantly want to remember about him. The irony of it all stabs her straight in the heart, and she suddenly feels something warm and wet forming at the base of her eyes. She tilts her head upward, trying to avoid the urge to blink, but the tears begin to spill down her cheeks anyway. She never thought that they could actually lose him. That _she _could actually lose him.

She is their leader now, but she is terrified out of her wits. He is suffering somewhere out there on a godforsaken planet, surrounded by the threat of death...perhaps he is already dead... She needs to be strong, but the intensity of her feelings for him is like a tornado wreaking havoc within her. She is shocked and scared at her inability to suppress those powerful gusts of emotion, and the last thing she needs now is for her feelings to overpower her judgment. But, damn, it's so _hard_, especially when all she sees is his face, when all she hears is his voice, when all she feels is the gentle touch of his hand upon her shoulder...

Ironic how only a few hours ago, she was worried sick about his allergies.

They have to get him back. They _need _to get him back. If they don't, she doesn't know how she'll ever be able to fill that hole she already feels has been cut out in her heart. Ironic, how she never expected him to ever mean that much to her.

Irony is a terrible thing.


	5. Serendipity

_Dear Readers,_

_Next oneshot!! This was supposed to be a drabble, but I have a problem stopping myself from writing more and more and more...so this ended up NOT being a drabble. Thank goodness it just happened to end itself where it did! Anyhoo, this one ISN'T angsty--it's more bound to give you warm fuzzies inside, so enjoy!_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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_**V. Serendipity **_

She hears a knock on her door.

Surprised, she gets up off her bed and walks to the doorway, wondering who it could possibly be.

The door slides open to reveal a most unusual sight.

"Rodney?!"

It's a very jittery Rodney, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet nervously as if he has to make an urgent run to the bathroom, his eyes flickering this way and that, not wanting to settle their gaze on the woman in front of him.

But that's not the strange part.

The strange part is that he's carrying a large bouquet of red roses in one hand.

"Rodney?" Sam says again, half in shock, half in confusion.

"Huh? Oh, uh, hi," he mutters in surprise, his voice rapidly growing softer until it is a whisper. It's as if he hasn't noticed her standing there until that moment.

There is an uncomfortable silence until Rodney remembers the roses and holds them out awkwardly towards Sam. "Um, here...I thought you might, um...like these..."

She tentatively takes the bouquet from his hand, confusion mounting in her brain by the second. "Umm, thanks," she answers, looking from his anxious face to the bouquet and back again, utterly bewildered by the gesture. "They're really beautiful, Rodney...but, you know, my birthday isn't until two months from now." She eyes him carefully, awaiting some explanation for such a spontaneous action.

It's not what she expects.

_Definitely _not.

He takes a deep breath and finally focuses his gaze on her bright blue eyes. His voice comes out barely above a whisper, but it's more confident than it was just a few moments before. "I know. But...a guy shouldn't wait for a special occasion to show the woman he loves just how much he loves her...right?"

Sam is stunned into silence and just stares in shock at his face, which is now so pale it looks as if Rodney is going to be sick.

His heart plummets upon seeing her reaction, and he immediately tries to save himself. "I-i-it was the only th-thing I could thi-i-nk of—"

But before he can stutter the rest of his sentence, Sam suddenly grabs the back of his head and pulls his face toward hers. And before either of them can even comprehend the moment, he kisses her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. But it is only a split second before she pulls away, now leaving him confused and even more desperate than before.

The painful after-moment doesn't last long, though. Sam settles the tension with just four words.

"I love you too."


	6. When I Say So

_Dear Readers,_

_May I say that this did not turn out the way I expected it to...I wanted fluffy, but then it took a turn for the Ultra-Extreme Cotton Candy Fluff Road, and this is what happened. Well, maybe it's not THAT fluffy, but I'll leave that up to you. It's fluffier than most of the other ones. Plotbunnies are evil. Really._

_Best Regards From a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

_and her newly returned muses: Sunny Baudelaire, Suzy Turquoise Blue, Sally Brown, and CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow (who now thinks he should be promoted to Commodore, but I'm not going to give him that satisfaction.) _

_AND Dr. Gregory House, who is still desperately trying to escape my clutches (not going to happen either)_

**This drabble (yes, FINALLY, I wrote something in just 250 words!!) is dedicated to Leliana McKay, for reaching out to me in my loneliness on GateWorld sniff :-D **

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_**VI. When I Say So**_

"_No_, Rodney."

He pleads with puppy-dog eyes, shuffling closer to her.

"_No._"

"Aww, come on," he whines like a little child whose mother won't let him buy that candy bar he so desperately wants.

"No. I'm not making out with you. Not now." She shoots him an annoyed look, attempting to silence his efforts with the cold stare.

"Not now..." he repeats, mumbling almost to himself. There is a pause. Then, he scoots even closer and leans his face forward so that his forehead touches hers. "When, then?"

She rolls her eyes at him before kissing his mouth softly and replying coyly, "When I say so."

His face flushes bright pink as his grin widens enormously until it stretches from ear-to-ear. He kisses her back, lingering maybe just a bit too long, for he has enough time to allow his hands to slide around her hips teasingly, causing her to flinch in a ticklish response. He could pull her closer, but she realizes all too soon his devious plan and eases herself away from him, pushing his hands off her.

"Not now," she reiterates, but this time with a demure smile splayed on her lips and a mischievous light bouncing around in her eyes.

He only blushes more profusely as he backs away reluctantly, the exuberant grin still plastered on his already red face. "You promise you'll—"

"Yes."

Although it hardly seems possible, his grin widens even more before he backs out of the room and disappears from sight.


	7. Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

_Dear Readers,_

_I'm sorry, I couldn't resist! I just HAD to go for more fluffiness! So I decided to make this oneshot a follow-up to the previous one. Basically, this should really be called "In Which Sam and Rodney Make Out for a Really Long Time and Fluffiness Abounds in Such Great Proportions that the Author is Deathly Afraid that She Has Unintentionally Made the Characters OOC!!!" :runs away and hides: In my defense, let me say that this wasn't supposed to be this long...but then I couldn't stop the overload of fluff extraordinare and, once again, I departed down the Ultra Extreme Cotton Candy Fluff Fluff Fluff Fluffy and MORE Fluff Road. I apologize in advance to those who do think the two are OOC in this, and to those who cannot endure high amounts of fluff under threat of impending gagging. I'M SORRY!!!!!! REALLY, TRULY...I will TRY to contain the fluff next time...if you feel too kind to blame me, go ahead and blame it on the evil plotbunnies and my muses!_

_Best Regards from a (very terrified) Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

_and her muses, Sunny Baudelaire, Suzy Turquoise Blue, Sally Brown, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, and Dr. Gregory House, M.D._

_and now Dr. Rodney McKay, whom I am trying to bid the highest for out of all the fans who want to own him_

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_**VII. Good Things Come To Those Who Wait**_

She slips through the doorway and out onto the balcony. He is standing there with his back to her, presumably gazing out at the blue glow of twilight upon the ocean. She leans against the door for a moment, smiling in spite of herself at him standing there, not yet aware of her presence. A cool breeze softly winds its way toward her and pushes a few loose strands of hair across her cheek, causing her to giggle a little at the ticklish reflex she feels.

He hears her giggle suddenly, and he turns around sharply. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, so he is left there, gaping at her. She giggles again, this time at the expression on his face, and walks over to him with her arms crossed across her chest. She walks up far enough so she can lean her arms against him, and she lifts her lips to the base of his ear and kisses him softly.

"Hi," she whispers breathily, her lips dancing over his skin.

He shudders at her touch and allows his mouth to curl into a grin. "Hi," he whispers back, leaning his cheek against hers and lifting his hands to her waist.

Her coy smile widens as she suddenly uncrosses her arms and begins to slide her hands gently against his chest. He shudders again at her gesture and unconsciously pulls her closer.

"How long have you been waiting?" she asks softly, bringing her face away from his ear so she can look straight at him.

"Long enough," he replies demurely, a bashful blush creeping along his cheeks. Suddenly, he leans forward and captures her lips in a brief kiss. He pulls away only enough so that their noses are still touching.

There is no need for words now. She presses her hands against his chest, and he leans forward into them, letting his lips touch hers again. He increases the pressure, moving his lips across hers gently. He feels her respond just as gently as she slides one hand up his chest to wrap around the nape of his neck. His hands pull her even closer as he rubs them across her back tenderly.

It is she who breaks the kiss to rub her nose against his, letting her eyelids flutter up and down, her lashes brushing over his cheek. He chuckles at the ticklish feeling, and she smiles a little in response. He turns his head so he can let his lips brush against hers again as he runs one hand up her back and neck to rest against her cheek. She is the one to shudder this time beneath the feather-light touch of his fingers as he rubs them across her face and brushes strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

Suddenly, she presses her lips against his again, and his reply is to move his hand to the back of her head and pull her face even closer, gradually making the kiss more passionate. She sighs barely audibly, relaxing even more in his embrace, and moving her hand up from his neck to entwine her fingers in his hair.

It is that gesture from her that sparks some impulse within him. He doesn't know how it really happens or why he even does it, but he cannot really ponder upon it because the touch of her lips tugging at his and her fingers running through his hair renders him incapable of thinking. In fact, he can barely breathe—his pulse is racing too fast. All he knows is that somehow he allows his hand to find the clip holding her hair up, and before he can comprehend what he is doing, he has clamped his hand around it. The curtain of blonde hair falls gracefully against her neck and shoulders, making her look like an angel glowing in the soft white light of the moon.

He abruptly releases his hold on her mouth, suddenly growing aware of his action and fearing her reaction to it. He expects her to pull away in shock—but instead, she responds to his breaking the kiss by leaning forward and forcefully grabbing his lips in hers.

He groans in surprise, and all cognitive function departs from his brain again. The clip slips out of his grasp as he flexes his hand and threads his fingers through her silky hair and massages her scalp. They remain engaged in that passionate embrace like that for who knows how long, moving in their own rhythm against each other's bodies, until she realizes that she can no longer hold her breath in and pulls away slowly, gasping for air.

"_Sam_," he gasps emphatically, suddenly breaking the prolonged silence. "Wow."

She chuckles, dipping her chin down in embarrassment as her cheeks flush pink. He realizes just how beautiful she looks like that—with her golden hair glowing in the moonlight, her rosy cheeks radiating in the darkness, and her sky-blue eyes twinkling like each of the million stars above their heads. And suddenly, he can't seem to resist leaning into her and placing a little kiss on her nose. She giggles softly, and the sweet ringing sound of her laughter causes his stomach to turn over more times than he can count. Before he knows what he's doing, he's kissed her again, on the cheek. And then, all of a sudden, he's placing little butterfly kisses all over her face, causing her to giggle and blush even more.

"Rodney," she whispers, trying desperately not to give in to the swooping and tingling sensations that are spreading throughout her whole body.

"Mmm," he replies, his lips teasing the skin on her forehead.

"What are you—oh..."

She moans suddenly, and her sentence trails off into the breeze as a dizzying force collides head-on with her, perpetuated by the fact that he is kissing her neck. He lingers in the spot just below her ear, then slowly moves his lips across her skin until he makes contact with the space underneath her chin. She feels as if all the air in her lungs has suddenly been swept out of her, and she can't seem to stop the constant chills running up and down her spine. She lifts her head upward as he continues to kiss her below her chin and then moves across to the other side of her neck, giving her more tiny butterfly kisses.

"Rodney..." The name escapes her lips blissfully before she can stop it, as he brings his kisses to her cheek and then back to her nose.

His mouth lingers on her nose for a few seconds before he tilts his chin downward and finally lays his lips against hers once again. It is their last long, sweet kiss before they pull their faces away from each other to gaze into each other's eyes. There is a prolonged moment of silence while she lets herself drown in his blue-grey orbs and he in her sky-blue ones.

He breaks the silence by speaking first. "That was worth the wait," he whispers tenderly, leaning his forehead against hers and bringing his hand forward to stroke her cheek.

"Well, good things _do_ come to those who wait." She smiles lovingly at him.

"I'm glad I waited, then."

Her smile only widens. "So am I."


	8. Never Argue With A Woman

_Dear Readers,_

_BWAHAHHAHA!! Okay, I decided to do this drabble (LESS than 244 words!! I'm getting better!) as a continuation of the previous two!!! This is the last of this continuation, I promise. I call it the Triad...I got the idea from the "Caspian Triad" in_ The Chronicles of Narnia..._okay, that doesn't really matter. ANYHOO, this is nowhere NEAR as fluffy as the last one, so you all squeamish people can relax. This one is actually funny, and the two are more IC. Enjoy, and don't forget to REVIEW!!_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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_**VIII. Never Argue with a Woman**_

"You're a good kisser," he says awkwardly, for lack of anything better to say. "Wait—I take that back. You're an _extraordinary _kisser."

"Not more extraordinary than you." Her smile widens softly.

"Oh, come on, I can't be that good."

"Your modesty is scaring me."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, don't start with me—"

"Start what?" she interrupts innocently.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?" he cries in agitation.

"Like what?" she replies sweetly, a smirk gradually forming on her lips as she leans across the table toward him.

"What are you doing?" he hisses under his breath. "There are people watching!"

She leans back into her chair, smirking even more. "I wasn't _doing _anything."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you'd better watch it, or the IOA's going to transfer you."

She raises her eyebrows in response. "Ex_cuse_ me? _You're _the one who won't stop flirting with me all the time!"

He chuckles. "Huh. They'd never transfer me. I'm too valuable here."

He doesn't realize what he's just said until he spies her glaring viciously at him. The voice that comes from the woman giving him the glare is anything but sweet this time.

"Oh, and I'm not?"

He looks up, flushing pink in embarrassment. "Uh—I-I—didn't mean it like that!" he stutters, desperately trying to save himself. "Of _course _you're valuable—I just meant—I mean—_OWWW!_"

His sentence is cut short by her kicking him quite hard in the shins.


	9. Just Checking

_Dear Readers,_

_Long time since I last posted!! Sorry for the wait, I've been so busy with college applications, the school play, snow, my Shakespeare paper from Hell, etc. Anyhoo, this is just a cute little dialogue I randomly came up with in Psychology class. Hope you enjoy! _

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

_"IN YOUR FACE, JACK BAUER!" (for anyone who watched David Hewlett's acceptance "speech" for his Spacey award :D) _

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_**IX. Just Checking**_

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I do too."

_Two minutes later..._

"Sam?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I love you."

"I know, Rodney. I love you too."

_Another three minutes..._

"Sam?"

"Rodney, I know you love me. You don't have to keep saying it."

"Well, I just want to make sure, y'know..."

"I know. But trust me, I know you love me, so don't worry yourself. And I love you too. Now shut up and let me work."

"Okay."


	10. Slipping Away

_Dear Readers,_

_It was 2:00 in the morning, but I felt like I HAD to write something Sam/McKay, because if I didn't ignore my urge to, I felt like I was going to DIE!!! Okay, maybe it wasn't that dramatic. But anyway, here I am, at 3 in the morning, writing this note to you because I just couldn't say no to my muses. Even though they are quite terrible to me and keep making the evil plotbunnies do their ritual dance to the Great Spirit of Fanfiction in which they continually have to sacrifice a fanfic writer (i.e. ME) in order to appease his wrath...okay, do you see how tired I am? I dunno how I even had the energy to write an angsty (VERY--be warned, there is some minor graphic stuff, i.e. blood) oneshot at this hour! Well, at least I got two very good inspirations now: this oneshot, and the idea of the evil plotbunnies and their ritual dance. Hmm, that might become a story one day..._

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (AND MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!! B/c Christmas technically doesn't end until Jan. 6--it's TWELVE days, people!!),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P _

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_**X. Slipping Away**_

She traced the outline of his face with her fingertips as his head rested limply in her lap. He shuddered, not at her touch, but at the excruciating pain he was experiencing. His eyes were half-closed in a daze, his mouth hung slightly open, his face had the ghostly pallor of a fevered child, and streams of blood poured from deep gashes in his head and side. She had tried to stop the bleeding, applying as much pressure to the wounds as she could, but she had only done so much. Blood still trickled down from his forehead, tracing ominous little paths down the side of his face, and his stomach wound had shown no signs of ceasing its leaking the life out of him anytime soon. She felt so helpless sitting there, watching him suffer endlessly as he clung desperately to each shaky breath. She wanted to help, she needed to, but there was nothing more she could do, and it was tearing her heart into tiny little pieces by the second.

She told herself that he wasn't dying. That each breath could very well be his last, that she might no longer see his face twist into a smug smirk, or a surprised gape, or a sweet, genuine smile. That she might no longer hear his loud gibbering and complaining, his snarky comments being flung at her back, his awkward blubbering when he was trying to say something sentimental but just couldn't get it out right. Years ago, maybe she wouldn't have even cared at all. But now, she suddenly realized with a painful stab to her heart, that she couldn't let go of him that easily anymore. Whether she had intended to or not, she had allowed him to become infused into a part of her soul and impossibly intertwined in her life—perhaps she had even dangled the key to her heart in front of him numerous times, almost willing him to grab it and unlock the love that she was aching to give away in order to find that completeness in herself that she knew she'd misplaced somewhere. Losing him would be like having a sliver of herself cut out of her and wrenched mercilessly away to be tossed into the dark chasm of past time.

He jerked suddenly, making a rough noise in his throat. Instinctively, she tightened her hold on his face and pulled his cold, sweat-beaded head closer to her stomach. He jerked again, this time coughing violently against her. She held him tighter, choking back tears as she felt him trembling with each grating cough, felt some of the terrible pain he felt seeping into her. He wheezed and sputtered, spewing saliva and blood across her stomach, leg, and arm, but she didn't care. She gripped him protectively in her arms, stroking one hand against his hair and thudding the other against his back in an attempt to ease his coughing. She didn't know how long it was before he stopped shaking, before his breath once more eased into a nervous pattern of inhales and exhales, before some of the tension in his muscles dropped away and he grew limp again.

For a few minutes he breathed somewhat steadily against the warm fabric of her jacket, his forehead resting on her stomach, rising and falling in rhythm with each breath she took for him. She continued stroking his hair with the one hand and proceeded to rub the other soothingly against his back. He cuddled against her like a sick, frightened child, cowering at the foreboding darkness and cold around him. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable curled up like that, pressing against her, searching for comfort and relief from his pain. Something in her throat surged, and before she could stop it, a small whimper escaped, and tears began running down her cheeks.

He heard her, even though she didn't want him to know she was crying, didn't want him to have to worry about her in his state. But he turned his head away from her stomach slowly and wearily opened his eyes. He stared into her glassy eyes, his own wounded more by her show of pain than his, pleading for her to be happy again. He tugged at her jacket sleeve and opened his mouth, attempting to say something—but all that came out was a series of quiet choking sounds desperately failing to push their way past his throat and through his lips to form words. Seeing his feeble attempt to communicate with her incited the tears to flow even more freely, and she soon found herself shuddering with sobs. He tried to lift his arm upward to her face, reaching and grasping at empty air, trying to comfort her in his pain. She leaned towards that flailing hand, wanting to feel him, wanting to tell him that he didn't need to comfort her because it was too much for him—he needed to save his energy. But he tried anyway, weakly cupping her cheek in his clammy hand, softly stroking her skin with his own. She lifted one hand and held it against his, then clasped it and brought it to her lips.

"Rodney…" she shakily whispered against his fingers. She tried to choke more words out. There was too much she needed to say, too much she had withheld from him that he needed to know in such a short moment. But, to her surprise, he shook his head, telling her silently she didn't have to say anything at all. One look into his eyes and she suddenly knew that he had suddenly realized everything that she had needed to say. She kissed his hand softly, sobbing even harder as she lowered it to his side and bent over to press her lips to the bloody wound on his forehead. She lingered there, feeling his pulse slow against her lips, unwillingly tasting the blood in her mouth.

When she lifted her head away, he was unconscious again, shivering in a fitful sleep as he danced around the edges of death. She pulled him even closer, trying to shield him from the brink of that cliff, trying to hold onto him just a bit longer.

If only he could hold on instead of hopelessly slipping away.


End file.
